


Believe It Or Not

by Gobetti



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Consensual Sex, M/M, Smuppets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gobetti/pseuds/Gobetti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk, Jane's friend, sometimes sends you these... <i>looks</i>. You can almost feel them, even from behind those ridiculous shades he wears.<br/>You honestly don't know what's the deal with this kid.</p><p>---</p><p>Alpha universe - Older!John/younger!Dirk</p>
            </blockquote>





	Believe It Or Not

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zillyhookah.tumblr.com](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=zillyhookah.tumblr.com).



> Drabble anon here! Oh boy will I miss this sentence :')  
> For a certain someone who is a sweetheart, and who probably should be declared emperor of Dirk/John or/and Bro/John.
> 
> I hope you like it :>

He’s in your house again.

God damn it _why_ is he in your house again.

“James. _James_.”

“Hmm?”

“Why is that kid here again?”

“You mean Dirk?” he asks, turning to you and looking a little confused. You bite your lower lip.

“No, it’s Jane I don’t want around. Of course I mean Dirk! I told you I didn’t want him in here when I was around.”

“Dad, you were asleep when he arrived.”

“Thant’s even worse!!” but you son just chuckles, waving his head and turning his attention back to the cake batter on the bowl in his hands.

“If you really must know, he and Jane are working on a school project together. He’ll probably be around for a few weeks more until they’re able to finish it. I heard from Jane it’s a model of a city, and since he’s really good with building things and she’s really good at leading a group, things are going smoothly and they’re having a lot of fun together.”

You frown, grunting a little. He’s right. You know he’s right, and you have no good reason to throw the kid out of your humble abode.

And yet...

“’sup, mister poppops.”

 _Ugh_.

He really makes you uncomfortable.

“It’s John. John Egbert, mister Strider.” You say, turning around as Jane and his friend enter the kitchen. He shrugs, pulling a chair to himself before plopping down on it.

They’re fifteen, and he and Jane are slowly growing into their adult forms, though they still have a slight trace of baby fat on their faces and bodies. Dirk is going to be really tall once puberty really hits him – the top of his head already hits your chin by now – and Jane, sweet, delightful Jane, will remain as big as your son’s wife used to be: pocket-sized. A delight to the eyes, and a sweetheart exactly like she was.

You look at James and see him smiling fondly at Jane as they briefly exchange looks, and you’re pretty damn sure he’s thinking just the same thing right about now.

“Oh, ignore him, grandpa.” Jane says, waving her hand at you. “He’s just being annoyingly snarky, as usual.”

You look at Dirk, giving him the most annoyed frown you can manage, and the boy smirks, leans his elbow on the table and rests his chin over his palm. You’ll never understand those darned shades of his either. You swear he must’ve gotten the inspiration from Johnny Bravo’s mother, but he insists it’s from a Japanese cartoon or something, and that it makes him look cool. You just don’t get it.

You still think he looks like Johnny Bravo’s mother.

“How’s the project, kids?” James asks, only glancing behind his shoulder, and you start fixing up the table with the dinner dishes as Jane animatedly updates you all on their project status. Apparently things are going smoothly, and Dirk supplies pretty much all the scrape they need to build everything.

Dinner is served, more talking is exchanged, and the oven chimes once everyone’s done eating. A slice of cake is served for everybody – except you, who prefers sipping on a small cup of coffee instead, thank you very much – and, even though the chat is lively and maybe even interesting at some points, you swear Dirk must’ve spoken only three times all night long.

He’s not apathetic, though. He’s just... mysterious. Closeted.

At least around other people, that is.

You swear to god that boy sometimes sends you these _looks_... looks that you could call _smoldering_.

It sends chill down your spine, to even consider what must be going around in his head. You honestly can’t understand what’s his interest in a fifty-five years old geezer like you, single and skinny and, well.

Everything your son and granddaughter are not.

James is thirty-four, looks a lot younger than his actual age and, most importantly, he’s still in shape, thanks to the workout he does every day. Jane is sweet, small, chubby and chipper, the most adorable girl on the face of the earth, not to mention extremely intelligent, a born leader and firm whenever she needs to be. You like to think you’re also a nice person, and yet...

You certainly had better days, physically speaking. Your hair is graying out in some points, and you don’t feel as much energy to do heavy work stuff as you used to, so you only save three or two days a week to  lift weights and whatnot. You’re still relatively young looking, but still. There’s only so much your oily skin can do to hold back your expression wrinkles. Age’s catching up on you by now, and it sucks. You’re not twenty anymore, and certainly not fifteen either, like Dirk and Jane.

So even though the boy’s presence makes you uneasy and uncomfortable – you’ve told James this one day, but he just laughed and said you were overreacting, “he’s just a kid” – you want to get to the bottom of this. Find out if you’re really just being paranoid.

Find out what’s the deal with this boy.

“You want me to drive you home?” you ask as Dirk shrugs on his leather jacket, and a blonde brow becomes visible from behind his glasses. James and Jane look at you, and you wave both of them off. “It’s fine. James, you have to clean the dishes, don’t you? Also, I know you don’t want to miss that show you watch every Thursday night. I think I need some fresh air anyway, drive the car a little for a change.”

“Well, if you say so...” James sighs, but smiles at you in a silent thanks. He’s tired and glad to not be the one to make the forty minutes drive to the city and back to drop Dirk off. You have ulterior reasons, but it’s still nice to do your dear son a favor like this.

They both say their goodbyes to the young man, which he silently and monosyllabically replies, and in five minutes you’re in the car and on your way to his apartment.

The silence is awkward.

That man is awkward, you swear to god.

“So!” you exclaim, both hands gripping the steering wheel firmly. He turns his head to you. “I, uh, I’m not sure where your apartment is. What rout should I take?”

He shrugs. “Just drive like you’re going to the mall. When we’re there I’ll give you specific directions.”

“Right.” And you look back at the road. You’re going way too slowly. He knows it. He can see you’re nervous, he’s staring at you oh jesus flipping dick. “So. Uh. Jane told me you’re good with making things?”

“I build robots. And sew puppets.” He’s still staring at you what the hell oh my god.

“O-oh? Wow that’s cool! I think. What kind of puppets?”

“I have my own model. They’re kind of like sex toys, only they’re puppets.”

In a single movement you choke on your own spit, step on the accelerator instead of the breaks and turn the steering wheel to the wrong side a little, making the tires screech. A car on the left lane honks loudly and its driver swears through the open window on its way past you.

“ _I d-d-d-din’t catch that_.” You kind of scream, kind of blabber out. Dirk, though, is unfazed by his near death experience. You clean your throat and try again. “I mean. _What_???”

“You heard me.” He says, voice smooth as silk. “I make sex puppets. Smuppets, like I call them. They’re colorful, have phallic shaped noses and tight holes between two plush ass cheeks. I sell them on my website, and they’re really popular. Some of them vibrate, some don’t. Being handy with technology helps, since I make them all at home.”

Wow, this is the most you’ve ever heard Dirk speak. Like, ever. Which is a little creepy since he’s talking about puppets with dildos as noses. You wonder if his guardian knows about his business. You wonder if they even care if they know.

“Okay wow, so let’s change subjects.” You say, and Dirk’s grin only widens at your nervousness. “Why do you look at me like that, when nobody’s paying attention to you?”

“What look?” and he leans a little closer to you, making you sputter and lean away from him right back.

“ _Those_ looks! Like the one you’re giving me right now! Like I’m food or something.”

“I don’t look at you like you’re food.”  He says calmly. “I look at you like I could eat you up. There’s a subtle difference, but I’m sure you’ll agree with me.”

The will to hit the brakes and stop the car in the first roadside you find to just _stare_ at him with eyes as wide as they can go is big, but you manage. Instead you just stop breathing for, like, maybe five seconds, and widen your eyes as far as they go, turning your head to look at him every second or so before almost immediately turning it back to the road.

You’re at a loss for words. John, pranking master, stand-up comedy popstar, blabber mouth extraordinaire, is at loss for words.

You end up with the most incoherent string of “Wh-whu-wha-buh-bluh-bu-b-but—why??? Oh my god, _why???_ ”

Dirk shrugs again, then turns to look at the road ahead as well, almost as if he’s considering your question.

“You’re hot. Hot grandpa. You’re also funny and you get embarrassed easily. It’s cute.”

“Cute?? Holy shit, kid, you’re fifteen!”

“So?”

“So?! You’re young, too young, you should be pinning for people your own fucking age!!!”

“Maybe. It’s not a ground rule, though. Most people my own age are dickheads, and not in the good way either.”

“Oh my god.”

“Also, you just cursed.” He looks back at you, a subtle smile back on his lips. “I thought you were as awkward as Mister Egbert junior when it came to cursing.”

You snort. “James is the epitome of politeness. I never curse in front of him. Ever. But I don’t like being so uptight like he is all the time. That man was born to be a business man. Sharp and fancy, you know? A true gentleman.”

“And you?”

You look at him through the corner of your eye. “What about me?”

“What were _you_ born to do?”

You smile. There’s no need to even think about the answer to that question. “That’s easy. I was born to make people laugh.”

Dirk chuckles once before relaxing on his seat. “I’ve watched a few of your stand-ups on YouTube actually. You’re pretty good, Mister Egbert, though I don’t think you need to be told that.”

“Thank you.” You tell him, genuinely flattered. The kid’s a pretty good guy, after all. But there’s still another subject that you shouldn’t drop. You lose the smile and gulp. “So, um. What do you mean with ‘you want to eat me up’ anyway?”

He snorts. “Do I really have to give you the detailed description? Turn left on the next exit.”

“Oh!” Whoops, you didn’t even realize you were already at the mall. You turn like he tells you, feeling your face getting warm with embarrassment. “But, well... I mean... why?”

“I already answered that question. Keep going straight and turn right on the next block.”

“It still doesn’t make sense, though.” You sigh, slowly making your way towards his building. Dirk shrugs again – must be a habit of his – and looks at you.

“Believe me, don’t believe me. I honestly don’t care. But it doesn’t make my words any less true.” You stop the car and he unbuckles himself, opens the door on his side. You still have both hands firmly gripping the steering wheel. You’ve confirmed your suspicions, and –well, you don’t know what to think of it. He puts one hand on the top of the car and leans down to look at you for a solid five seconds, before he smiles, looking honest to god amused. “I’m not particularly your number one fan, but I can tell right now that you have no idea how many of your admirers want to suck your cock.” You open your mouth, shocked, feeling the heat returning to your face with full force. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

He closes the door and leans down again, winking at you through his open window.

“Thanks for the ride, sweetcheeks.”

And with that, Dirk turns around and strides towards the building front door, disappearing in a matter of seconds.

You go back home feeling like you could use a cold shower and a long night of sleep.

On top of your mattress, though, you’re faced with a puppet. It’s blue, and his nose is long and round.

Almost... phallic-shaped.

You sprint towards it, trying to hide it in case someone decides to barge into your room right the fuck now, and notice a note stuck to his forehead with an orange pin.

This is a sample of one of my latest models. There’s a how-to manual beneath it. I hope you like it.

Let me know what you think of it next time we meet.

-DS.

You feel something coiling up in your stomach, and you don’t know if it’s embarrassment, curiosity, arousal or disgust. You also don’t discard the possibility of all four all at once.

After the thing is hidden away in the back of your closet, you take your shower and crawl up beneath your bed covers, trying not to think about the spiky haired boy and his weird fetishes.

You try not to wonder if he was really telling the truth, and why would somebody like him – handsome, smooth, talented – who could have anyone he wants, would want _you_.

You fall asleep only three hours later with a raging headache and a nagging curiosity.

 

\---

 

Jane and James go out on Sunday to a concert she wanted to go on the next city over, and you find yourself sitting in your bedroom, holding the simple instructions manual of the puppet in your closet.

_Press the button behind his head once for vibration speed one, twice for speed two, thrice for speed three, and so forth. Hold the button down to turn it off. Completely waterproof for easy cleaning and lubrication. Do not put it on the dryer and do not leave it do dry under the sun. Works with two AA batteries; simply open the zipper on his back to exchange them. Have fun._

You tried the button of the doll once, and both his ass and nose started humming. You had to look at the manual for help, because clicking the button again would not turn it off, and you almost dropped it back on the closet while still running.

The doorbell makes you jump out of skin. You put your hand over your chest to calm yourself down and leave the manual over your bed before going to the living room.

To your shock, Dirk greets you behind the door.

“Dirk! You...! what...! how...?”

“Yes, it’s me. I decided to come see you. And I took the bus. May I come in?”

“Jane is not here.” You say, but Dirk nods.

“I know. Just told ya I came to see you, not her.” And he walks in anyway, forcing you to close the door as he sits down on the couch. “So tell me about it.”

“Tell you what.” You deadpan, but you and he both know what he’s asking about.

“What did you think?”

“I didn’t...” and you rethink your words, fidgeting in place. “I didn’t try it out.”

“Why not? Didn’t have the opportunity?”

“N-no... well, yes, but that’s...”

“Well, we have an opportunity right now.” And he gestures to the empty living room with wide open arms. Your face must be burning up at this point.

“Dirk.”

“Hmm?” he hums happily. You take a deep breath.

“I’m not interested in men.”

He chuckles. “What about Nicolas Cage?”

“That was a one-time thing!!” he lifts a single brow at your outburst, like he thinks you’re full of shit. Ugh. Like everyone does. “And we were drunk and... and well, it wasn’t even that good. I just admire him a lot and it seemed right at the time.”

“I’m sure your son has a bottle of whiskey somewhere around here, if that’s the problem.” He says, and you almost want to punch him.

“Dirk.”

“John.”

“Leave.”

“No.”

You clench your fists, stare at him, sitting on your couch like he owns the place. It’s unnerving.

“I want you, Mister Egbert.”

“ _Why_.”

“I already told you why. I already _know_ why. You’re the one who doesn’t seem to believe in me.”

“Kind of hard to do that when there’s a shitton of other people infinitely better than me for you to pick from.”

“Name one.”

“Jane, for instance?!”

He snorts, then waves his head, getting up and walking towards you.

“Jane is a sweetie, but she’s got her eyes on someone else. She’s head over heels in love with him, and it wouldn’t be fair, you know? To get in the way of her love. They’re perfect for each other.”

“Alright, fine. Then why me? My son is much younger, much more handsome.”

“Where? I don’t see it.” he asks, only a few feet away from you now and still approaching. “Like you said, he knows how to prank to keep the family tradition going, but he’s too uptight. Too serious. He’s not my kind of guy.”

“And _I’m_ your kind of guy? Old, nearly blind, messy hair, smartass?”

“Good looking, funny, nice. Gorgeous eyes.” He’s looking up at you now, and you can almost count the freckles on his nose this up close. “Mature despite his sense of humor. Family man. Cute.”

“You’re fifteen.”

“I don’t care. Do you?”

“Ye—” and he stops you, cuts you off by pulling you down and mashing his lips against yours. You fight a little, but it’s half-hearted, and you know it – you don’t know why, though. You have all the reasons in the world to push him away, make him stop, feel disgusted with yourself...

But then Dirk tilts his head and cards his fingers on the back of your neck, and it feels nice.

Maybe you have a serious problem that you don’t even know about. You wonder if you’re a pedophile. You tell yourself no, because Dirk is anything but a child anymore.

In spirit, at least. His body is still catching up with his mentality.

God, you’re so going to hell for this.

He pulls back, smiles, then turns around and walks away.

Towards your bedroom.

You follow him, close the door behind you two when he’s already taking the paper your left in your bed before you found him downstairs.

“So you _are_ curious about it.” He says, smiling. “What’s holding you back?”

“It’s a _puppet_.” You say, walking towards the drapes to close them up. “And, uh... I don’t have any lube. To, well. You know. Slick him up or anything.”

“I brought some.” He says, and you turn around, frowning.

“I don’t know if I want to do this.”

“Then don’t.” he walks over to you until your bodies are barely touching, resting a hand on your waist. “But I know you want to. You’re curious. And intrigued.” You grimace, still unsure of everything, and he pecks your lips. “We won’t do this if you don’t want to. But I know you do deep down. You’re just afraid of getting caught and getting in trouble.

“It’ll be out little secret.” He whispers against your lips, kissing you again. This time you melt into it immediately, and god you wish you had a girlfriend so you could use her as an excuse to not be doing this.

You’re confused and nervous and your heart is going at it like crazy inside your ribcage. It’s both a terrible and a wonderful feeling, and for now you decide to roll with it.

“Where?” he asks when he pulls back, and you take a deep breath.

“Inside the closet. In a grey shoe box.” You reply, and he squeezes one of your buttocks before walking away. You slide down to the floor beneath the window you just closed, breathing with your mouth open, licking your lips an feeling Dirk’s taste on them.

How did you get yourself into this mess, honestly.

Dirk kneels down next to you, smuppet in hand. He fishes a small bottle of lube from his jeans pocket and pops the cap open, flipping the puppet around and shoving the tip of the tube between his ass cheeks. After a couple of squeezes he puts the bottle aside and looks at you.

“Well?” he asks, and you gulp.

“Okay. Okay. I... what should I do exactly?”

“Take your pants off. And maybe your vest, too. Don’t worry about the smuppet; I’ll help you.”

You unbutton your vest with shaky hands, then proceed to undo your belt and pants, exactly like Dirk told you to. Like an obedient little puppy.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” you mutter, holding yourself in your hand. You’re still shaking a little, and Dirk gently touches your wrist, prying your hand away from your half erect cock. He smiles up at you, pushes up his glasses and...

Whoa.

His eyes are light brown, golden. And he’s looking at you with such raw emotion, so sincere and so needy and so...

You don’t know how to describe it.

He praised your eyes, but it’s his own that are compliment worthy.

Finally he leans in, kisses you again, though it’s slower now, warmer. He reaches down and grasps you in his hand when you’re least expecting him to do it, and when you gasp against his mouth, he cracks his eyes open a little to look at you.

“Relax. You’re really tense.” He says, playing with your foreskin, and you whine a little, unaccustomed to having another person touching you so skillfully. He knows what he’s doing, and he’s testing to see which buttons to press and how to press them, but fortunately for him you’re so sensitive pretty much everything he does feels downright amazing.

Also you haven’t touched yourself in a while. Another thing that happens with single men your age: you lose interest in masturbation. It’s just not as fun as it used to be when you were eighteen.

Handjobs, though. Those are definitely still awesome, apparently. Who would’ve known.

Suddenly the warmth of his hand is gone, replaced by the coldness of the lube inside the plush puppet. You break the kiss to look down, and he’s placing the toy with its back facing you, maneuvering him until the tip of your cock finds the slicked hidden hole. He slowly lowers the smpuppet onto you – his insides are made of something else entirely, and you’re thankful for that, because wow lube and fabric? Not a great combo – and when he’s down to the root he squeezes the body of the puppet, making you gasp. There’s tons of bumps and weird silicone textures inside the toy, and Dirk knows just how to work them, from the way he pulls the toy up and presses it back down, applying pressure and twisting just so in all the right moments.

“How does it feel?” he asks, and you realize you’ve been biting your lower lip all this time. You open your legs a little more, straighten them out on the floor and lick your lips before saying, a little breathless, “Fucking amazing.”

He smiles, and there’s an undertone of affection in his look. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you.” It’s not a question and you know it, but he still expects a reply. So you give him one.

“More than I would have if I were alone.” You confess, mentally smacking yourself for saying out loud the thoughts you very much dread to admit. This is wrong, you keep telling yourself, you shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t be doing this to you. But alas, here you are, at his mercy and will.

It’s weirdly satisfying, though, to feel adored like this. He seems sincere enough, and very much eager. Maybe the least thing you can do is indulge him a little.

“Mmmm...” Dirk’s hand is quickening his pace, and when he turns on the vibrations, you nearly shout out with surprise. “Ah!! Fff... _fuuuuck_... Dirk, oh my god...”

“Talk to me, that’s it.” He coons. He seems to be just as aroused as you are, and a quick glance down at his jeans tell you that—yup. Very much aroused. “Does it feel good?”

“Yeah, I... _ah_!!” he increases the speed, and you arch your back, trying to buck up into the toy along with Dirk. “God yes, it feels... _amazing_ , oh my god...”

Dirk nods, drawing his attention back to the task at hand – ha, pun – and presses the button again, sending a wave of pleasure up your spine. If he keeps it up you doubt you’ll last much longer.

“D-Dirk, Dirk, w-wait. Wait, please.”

He immediately freezes and a second later the buzzing of the toy stops. All the muscles in your body immediately relax, and you feel the tip of your fingers tingling wonderfully. When you open your eyes Dirk is looking at you a little worriedly.

“You okay?” he asks, scooting a little closer to you and letting go of the smuppet. You move your hand to hold it in place instead, staring at it and then back at Dirk.

“Yeah, I—I just haven’t... you know. Shot my load. In a while. I might end things too quickly if we keep it up and. W-well. I’m not your age anymore. I want this to last longer.”

Dirk, instead of simply accepting and waiting a few minutes, like you thought he would, kind of tenses up, looks at you rather frantically.

“How long?”

“Uh, what?”

“You said you haven’t shot your load in a while. How long is a while.”

“Uuuuh...” okay that’s... weird? “I’m not sure? Maybe three weeks. Probably.”

“Fuck.” Dirk whispers. It’s odd because it’s a clear sign that he’s losing his cool for some reason. He looks like he’s about to freak out, and it’s weirding you out. “Fuck, just... excuse me.”

He reaches down for the smuppet and you let him, kind of curious as to where this is going. The toy makes a slick and extremely obscene noise when it’s pulled out, and you moan a little, feeling it slide around you up until your dick is exposed and standing tall in between your legs. Dirk leaves the puppet by his side and eyes your erection hungrily, eyes going half lidded and pupils dilating with lust.

“...fuck.” he mutters again, licking his lips. “Fuck, just... oh _fuck_.” And since it’s kind of worrying you a little you mean to ask him if he’s alright, but at that exact moment he lifts himself up on his knees and pulls his shirt over his head, exposing his pale, freckled torso. You widen your eyes and open your mouth, but Dirk is already working on the button of his jeans, pulling the dark fabric down to his knees along with his boxers in one swift movement.

He crawls over to your lap then, and you draw your knees up, staring at his erect penis. It’s flush with arousal, moist with precum, and he works his hand around the head exactly like he did with yours, pulling the foreskin up and down and stroking himself as he breathes hard and pants little mewls of pleasure with every move he makes.

“Okay. Okay. Just... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to get this far. It’s just... god damn it. You’re really, _really_ hot, Mister Egbert. And it’s a damn shame you don’t even know it. Also I’ve wanted to do this for a really long time. So just... stop me if you want to. And I’ll stop. Okay?”

You nod, combing your fingers through your hair, and Dirk nods a little to himself too, taking the lube and pouring some onto his hand, slicking first your already slippery member then reaching down behind himself. You know what he’s doing. You should stop him. But he sounds so desperate and sincere you really don’t know what to say.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” you ask him, and he chuckles, hand still behind his back.

“I’ve fucked myself with dildos bigger than your own cock, Mister Egbert. No offense.” He tells you, licking his lips. “But it’s not the same thing. It’s not the same thing as seeing your cock, moist and hot and ready to burst. It’s _really_ not. And I want you to do it in me, not on the toy, because it’d be a shame to waste this fine material on the little dude who won’t even be able to appreciate...” and he holds you in his hand, guiding the tip into his entrance. “...how fucking good...” and he bites his lip, applying pressure down, gasping when the ring of muscle swallows the head in. “... _ah_... how f-fucking good... you must feel, _goddamn._ ”

“You okay?” you ask, kind of worried with his last curse – also kind of dizzy with loss of blood on your head because WOW the smuppet wasn’t even half as warm and as pulsing and as _real_ as Dirk is right now –, but all Dirk does is hang his head, breathing in three times, and slam down onto you.

“ _Shit!!!_ ” you exclaim, hands immediately shooting to grip his thighs, and Dirk moans loudly, lewdly, then rams himself down onto your cock again. And again. And he finds a rhythm, and he sways his hips, goes slow, picks up the pace, stops to clench himself around you, and it’s like he’s trying everything he’s ever learned on his own with you – and jesus Christ are you ever alright with that.

And even though you’re also moaning, also sweating and cursing and slowly losing it, you can’t help but pay attention to Dirk, who is, somehow, not looking like the snarky bastard you greeted by your front door in the beginning of this afternoon at all. He’s got his shades still perched on top of his head, eyes shut tightly, mouth open and voice high pitched, becoming louder and louder with every second, with every thrust. He’s so unlike the cool, collected kid you know, that it’s... well, it’s kind of beautiful, you think. Hypnotizing, maybe.

No; actually the word you’re looking for is _hot_.

“M-Mister Eg...bert...” he moans, and you grip his tights harder. He hides his face on the crook of your neck and wraps his hand behind your back, working faster, his dick rubbing against your button up shirt. It’s probably staining and you don’t even care.

“John” you whisper onto his ear, kissing his neck as you reach in between you two and start stroking him. He moans louder, and you kiss him again. “Call me John.”

“J-John!! Oh, John, _please...!_ ”

“Fuck, Dirk...” and somewhere along this mess of words and limbs and movement you started thrusting up into him and the heat and the pressure in you is building up, running up your spine, you can feel it yourself reaching your peak and it’s been too long since you’ve felt this _alive_. “I’m going to...!”

“Yes! Please, do it, do it! Oh fuck, John, John, _John!!_ ”

That’s all it takes, all you need. Dirk shoots up into your hand almost the same time as you finish inside of him, grunting and biting his shoulder to stifle what you fear would be a really loud scream. When you pull out, Dirk throws himself to the floor right before you, reaches down between his legs and works the cum out of him with two of his fingers.

He looks like a slut.

Christ this shouldn’t be so hot.

“Lucky.” He says, voice raspy and low, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his breathing. “You have the best fucking view right now.”

And you just couldn’t agree more.

 

\---

 

He goes home, and when both your granddaughter and son come back three hours later they are none the wiser. Dirk tells you a few days later he doesn’t plan on telling Jane, and you’re grateful for his kind soul.

He keeps on acting cool and aloof like usual whenever he comes, but when you look at him, you know better. You can look at his shades and see his eyes, and you can hear him moaning and screaming your name whenever he grins and calls you “Mister Egbert”.

Two weeks later you find a new smuppet on top of your bed, exactly like the one before it, though this time the pin attaching the note to his forehead is blue, just like your eyes.

The smuppet is orange, and his eyes are hidden by a pair of pointy plastic shades.

Come to my apartment tomorrow. We’ll have the place to ourselves, and we can try out your new toy.

I miss you.

-DS

You smile, and deep down, you know that he knows how much the invitation is a request you simply can’t refuse.


End file.
